


Angel Shot

by Sedated



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Creepy, Dark, Dean is suspicious but Castiel keeps distracting him, Destiel - Freeform, Drug Abuse, Drug Use, Heroin, Human Lucifer, Hunters, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, No angels, Sam is an innocent little bean, Samifer - Freeform, Serial Killer Lucifer, That's all the warnings you get, still Supernatural just without angels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-09-21 09:38:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9541844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sedated/pseuds/Sedated
Summary: Sam meets a wealthy, attractive guy at a bar, who has a dark secret. Lucifer is trying to kick his bad habits, but Sam makes him feel again. He isn't sure if he likes that.





	1. Shots

**Author's Note:**

> One and Only Disclaimer: Sam's an idiot who would die if this was real. Don't date creepy psychopaths.
> 
> This story is pure madness, please enjoy.
> 
> I edited it back to mostly Lucifer's PoV. I thought it would be too creepy so I tried to make it Sam's, but it just didn't work. So now it's fixed.

Fingers drummed along the black granite top of a bar.

A fast-paced Rihanna song shook the ground in the busy club. Blue eyes darted from person to person. His left hand was chilled from his short glass of vodka.

An angry exhale drew his attention to the left. Next to him, a tall brunet stood scowling into his glass of coke. He glanced up from his soda to curl his lip in the direction of a guy with two blonde women hanging off his arm.

Lucifer's eyes lit up and he felt his pulse quicken. A smile curled up both corners of his lips.

He casually glanced the man up and down. He was a bit taller, well-built, and seemed alert.

Lucifer sidled closer. The guy seemed to ignore him, and pulled a disgusted face as one of the blondes climbed into the lap of the man he was watching.

He lifted his glass to his lips, grabbing his stirring straw with his teeth thoughtfully.

_ "It can creep up inside you, _

_ "And consume you. _

_ "A disease of the mind, _

_ "It can control you." _

"Hey," he said over the music, leaning toward the tall guy.

The green-eyed brunet seemed alarmed to be spoken to as he looked over. Lucifer repressed his excitement with a lazy smile.

"Hey," the guy said, voice low and difficult to make out over the lyrics. He looked relieved.

"They aren't pretty," he observed, nodding to the women.

The brunet laughed as he looked over his shoulder at the three again. "Oh, yeah," he agreed.

Both blond eyebrows raised. A gay man at a straight bar was unusual, but made things considerably less complex.

"He's my brother," the guy offered.

Lucifer sipped on his vodka from his bent stirring straw.

"He drags you out to bars?" Lucifer asked curiously, leaning toward the guy's ear.

The brunet laughed and rubbed his forehead with the base of his hand. "He's, uh—Dean means well," he said awkwardly. "Usually I don't go. I don't drink," he fumbled over his words, seeming uncomfortable.

Lucifer set down his glass, the ice inside knocking the sides of the glass.

"Neither do I," he said. "What's your name?"

"Sam," he replied. "Why are you here if you don't drink?"

Lucifer smiled. "To watch people."

Sam looked uncomfortable with the answer, and shifted his weight back on to his heels.

"Sam," Dean's voice sounded impatient as the dirty blond stepped in between the two.

Lucifer's expression faltered, distinct anger settling over his features as he glared at the back of Sam's brother's head.

"I've been telling Emma about you and—what are you even doing over here?"

"Dean, stop telling girls about me," Sam said uncomfortably, grimacing and setting down his coke on the bar behind himself without looking.

Dean looked at the blond guy next to his brother out of the corner of his eye and startled. Lucifer gave him a teeth-baring grin.

"Who's that?" he tried to ask more quietly, his voice still loud enough to be heard over the music.

"Uh, I don't know."

"You're standing with him," Dean said.

Lucifer glanced between the two, and took the final swig of his vodka.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I don't need your—"

Lucifer stepped into the sweaty crowd of people between himself in the door, a few drunks bumping into him on his way out. It wasn't worth it. He'd promised himself he would quit, anyway.

He exhaled sharply as he pushed open the door, the muggy night air hitting him in the face and sparking his adrenaline. He had promised Castiel he would give up his hobby. Maybe take up something more casual, like golf.

His eardrums felt relieved as the door swung closed behind him, leaving behind the musty air and thumping bass.

Lucifer stopped to light up a cigarette, leaning his back against the brick exterior and looking up at the nearly-full moon. The green eyes of that guy were still flashing through his mind behind closed lids. He was a perfect specimen. A perfect last score. But with company, and of course with his relative size and fitness—it would be complex.

Not that that made the prospect any less tempting.

He waited, his mind flicking through a few possible courses of action.

It only took a few minutes before he caught a glimpse of Sam in his peripheral, storming toward the glass doors.

He dropped his cigarette, covered it with his heel, ground it into the asphalt, and fished his keys out of his pocket.

Sam's jaw was tight as he stormed into the dimly lit parking lot. He paused to exhale, unclenching his fists and reaching into his jacket pocket.

Lucifer walked forward in an unsteady line toward his car, a short distance away, by a dim streetlight in the lot. He scuffed his foot on the corner of the curb, purposely dropping his keys and mumbling a swear under his breath.

He could see Sam stop and focus on him in the corner of his vision, his expression unreadable in the dark but his posture alarmed and alert in a dog-like fashion.

He fumbled along the ground for his keys as if he were struggling before pulling himself upright and laughing quietly, steadying himself against the trunk of his car.

"Hey, are you okay?" Sam's voice called out from the short distance away in the parking lot. Lucifer repressed a smile, his voice was finally clear—instead of muffled by shitty pop song edits.

"Uh, yeah," he responded. Sam approached anyway, and seemed to recognize his voice.

"You don't drink?" he asked, sounding skeptical as he stopped next to the guy and shot a glance at the keys in his hand.

Lucifer laughed and rubbed at the back of his neck in a motion of feigned sheepishness. "Well, I don't usually, because you know—I get like this," he said. He looked up with hooded blue eyes, a weak smile lifting one corner of his mouth. "I guess I don't look as sober as I feel, huh?"

"Not really," Sam said sympathetically, pausing and rolling his own keys around in his pocket. "You shouldn't drive like that, why don't I call a cab for you?"

Lucifer shook his head quickly and a little erratically. "No—thanks, you're right, but I don't do cabs. I'll walk," he said, stuffing his keys back into his pocket and pushing himself off the edge of his car. He started off in a swerving line toward the road, which lit up with the occasional car rushing past.

Sam followed after him. "Wait," he called out hesitantly.

Lucifer stopped and turned to face the tall brunet as he came up next to him looking frustrated and concerned.

"I—can give you a ride, if you want," Sam said finally.

"I can walk, my place isn't far," the blond said. "Wouldn't want to put you out of your way."

Sam looked over his shoulder at the club and shifted his weight unsurely. "I don't want you to get mugged or something. It's okay," he said, turning back to look at the other guy. "Come on." He nodded to his car and started to walk toward it.

Lucifer walked slowly, his feet scuffing once as they made their way over to a kempt '67 Impala. He glanced at the plates, and made a quick mental note.

He let out a wolf-whistle. "Beautiful car," he said appreciatively.

"Thanks," Sam said, seeming dryly amused as he pulled open the driver side door and climbed in. He leaned over the center console to push open the shotgun door for the other guy, and adjusted his seat to give himself leg room.

Lucifer climbed in, taking care to move clumsily and bump his head on the roof.

Sam grimaced as they settled into the car, and Lucifer pulled the door shut behind him. The car had no smell of smoke, and appeared to have been recently detailed, which probably meant he wasn't a very welcome passenger.

"Thanks for this," he said as Sam buckled and started the engine.

Sam visibly relaxed and looked over at the blond. "No problem. Where do you live?" He pulled out a smartphone and opened the map application.

He gave the brunet his address and glanced around the car casually. No pictures, no papers—nothing interesting or personal.

Sam put in the address and handed Lucifer the phone as he started to pull out of the lot, the phone giving directions in a sharp, robotic voice.

"I can give you directions," Lucifer offered, grimacing at the abrasive sound from the iPhone with the cracked screen.

"Sure, uh—did I catch your name?"

Lucifer smiled dryly as he turned off the obnoxious GPS application. "My name's Lucifer."

There was a beat of silence, and Sam laughed a little tensely, tightening his grip on the steering wheel.

"My parents had a twisted sense of humor, I guess. My older brother's name is Michael."

Sam looked over in surprise before glancing back at the road.

"Next right," he said quietly, sinking into his seat as he thought.

"Your name is actually Lucifer? I'm sorry," Sam blurted out awkwardly, his knuckles turning white.

Lucifer laughed, genuinely amused. "Don't apologize to me."

"I mean—unless you like your name, I didn't mean—"

"Straight at the intersection," he said, cutting off the rambling man. "Mind if I turn on the radio?"

"Oh, sure," Sam said. He seemed to have forgotten the guy was supposed to be drunk.

The blond turned on the radio, flipping through several stations playing commercials before stopping on the late night pop station.

He looked at Sam with interest as the Kesha song started up.

The brunet kept a straight face at the road ahead of him.

Lucifer smiled, and twisted the knob to raise the volume.

"You like Kesha?" the brunet asked over the music, just as the song trailed off.

"Not really."

The atmosphere in the car shifted, and Lucifer smiled to himself. Maybe he was a little drunk. Just a little.

"When are you going to tell your brother you're gay?" he asked curiously. Fuck it.

Sam coughed. "Uh, what?"

Lucifer sucked his upper lip into his mouth, letting it out with a pop and a breathy laugh. He used the base of his palm to scrub at his scruffy jawline.

The lights on the center console lit up Lucifer's fingertips as he reached for the new radio in the old car.

"I'm not. It's none of his business. And I don't know—I mean I've had a girlfriend," Sam answered—surprisingly.

"Me too. That's how I knew I was gay."

Sam laughed at that, his hands relaxing on the steering wheel as he looked over at the other guy. "Yeah?"

The blond was looking in his direction still, a quiet smile playing on his lips. "Yeah."

The next few minutes went on in silence as Lucifer closed his eyes, letting his head back to rest. Sam was pleasant to be around—uncommonly so. It was a good difference.

"Why don't you drink, Sam?"

There was a beat of silence, and Lucifer opened his eyes, looking at the brunet with interest.

He shrugged noncommittally with one shoulder. "I do, sometimes, just not when I go out. And not with my brother."

"You live with your brother?"

"We travel together. Yeah." Sam looked uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had took.

"So you guys aren't from around here?" The blond asked curiously as he turned down the music further, the springy pop becoming a background hum of bass.

"We are for now. We just move around a lot. My brother isn't the settling down type."

"What about you?"

There was a contemplative silence, as Sam swallowed and tilted his head, blinking a few times.

"Well I tried. That was sort of the girlfriend thing, and—my dad got, uh, sick, so I thought Dean needed me, and, I don't know. I guess I'd like to. Settle down."

"Sorry to hear about your dad," Lucifer said, trying to keep the boredom out of his voice—maybe unsuccessfully.

"It's okay, I hated him," Sam said, seeming unabashed by the blond's yawn after his unimpressive display of empathy. "But Dean was messed up."

"So you and Dean are pretty close, but you can't tell him you like men?"

Sam laughed and shook his head, resting his right arm on the center console. "I could, probably. I just don't want to. Dean can be... Dean. Does your brother know?"

"Yeah, but he's a cunt."

Sam laughed at the blunt statement, an amused, crooked smile lighting up his features.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't laugh—that's awful," Sam said after he caught himself, looking thoroughly abashed.

Lucifer laughed. "For what it's worth, my younger brothers aren't. Michael always was special." The blond smiled wryly.

"How many brothers do you have?" Sam asked as he turned on to the road that the other guy gestured to. The driver looked around the neighborhood he had turned into with interest, green eyes widening at some of the more flashy homes.

"Michael, Gabriel, and Cas." Lucifer sat back, feeling done with the conversation. He didn't discuss family with his quarry. He opted for looking out the window.

If he could get Sam into his house, things would go more smoothly. But he wanted to play with him a bit more. Sam was special. Sam was unique.

He liked Sam.

"This is it," he said as the car came up to his street.

It was quiet at night. He liked how far he was from his neighbor, and his stupid fucking dog.

He motioned to his red brick, French styled home. Right out of his cunt of a brother's pocket—but it was beautiful.

"Nice place," Sam echoed his thoughts, and sounded surprised as he glanced over at the blond to do a double-take.

Lucifer laughed. "Thank you. I designed it."

Sam blinked in surprise, and bent over the steering wheel to give the house a better look. "Really? Like—an architect?"

"Yes, exactly like that," he said dryly.

"Oh! That's really cool," Sam said animatedly, green eyes lit with excitement as he rotated in his seat to face the blond.

Lucifer smiled slightly. "Thanks."

"Is it French?" Sam unbuckled, then hesitated with his hand on the door.

"Heavily inspired, yes," Lucifer said. "My dear brother paid for its construction. In exchange, I designed him an office. Would you like to see the inside?" he asked as he opened the door of the Impala, the night air rushing in.

Sam hesitated for only a moment, before shooting a final glance at the house and pulling the keys out of the ignition, seeming unable to help himself as he climbed out of the black car. "I'd love to," he replied, almost unsurely.

Lucifer smiled as he started toward the front door, and fished his house keys out of his pocket.

* * *

Sam drew in a breath as he stepped into the impressive estate after the blond. The cool air from inside the house was a welcome reprieve from the humidity.

The black French doors opened into an open concept, circular room. In the center of the house, glass walls looked into a private courtyard. Sam looked around and toed off his shoes after the blond did so himself.

The inside was surprisingly modern and minimalist. Neat, crisp, and fresh smelling. The kitchen and bar were to the left, and a double staircase curled around both sides of the circular courtyard. The space to the right had a grand piano and a wall of a filled bookcase that rose into the second story, adorned with a white sliding ladder.

He followed the blond as he opened one of the contemporary glass doors that lead outside.

"This is the courtyard. My favorite thing to design since school."

The second story rooms had walls with mirror-looking exteriors, reflecting lights off the pool and koi pond. A small waterfall poured quietly into a two-level pond of fish and lilies, not disturbing the surface.

Marble-swirled slate paths lined with night-blooming white flowers lead to a underwater lit, blue pool.

"It's beautiful," Sam said, unable to keep the shock off his face as he turned around to take in his surroundings.

He didn't consider himself judgmental, but he had not pinned the smoking, drunk blond as someone wealthy or artistic.

"Thank you," the reserved voice came from just behind him, closer than he remembered the blond being. Something in the tone made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

Sam turned around to face the unshaven blond, whose eyes were awake, and pupils dilated as he spoke. "This concept was one of the most outlandish I've ever designed. I never imagined I would actually see it built. For all of Michael's faults... I appreciate him, at least for this."

Sam swallowed, something in the man's gaze just as unsettling as his tone, and shifted his weight back as he suddenly realized he was alone in a stranger's home, Dean was drunk, and had no idea where he was.

He told himself he was being ridiculous and pushed the creeping anxiety into the back of his mind.

"Can I get you something to drink?" the blond offered politely as he stepped back, an attractive smile softening his features. "Sorry, I'm not entirely sober. I don't mean to be rude. Architecture excites me more than the average person, I'm sure."

"Oh, it's okay, it's interesting," Sam said, shoulders relaxing. "Sure, thank you."

* * *

Sam nursed a pear cider, and curled his toes in the saltwater pool that he was sitting on the edge of, the warm water reaching the back of his knees. It was getting later, and he was getting tired. 

"You enjoy law school?" the smooth voice of the blond was starting to make Sam's stomach feel hot, and that wasn't good.

He shouldn't have accepted a drink, he knew he was a lightweight. He'd had some rum-based mixed drink, then they'd had a conversation about his grand piano, and he'd stupidly accepted a taste of the blond's drink—and he was starting to think it hadn't been just ginger ale.

"I dropped out, but yeah, I did," Sam said with a laugh. He jumped a little as the guy sat down next to him, putting his own legs into the water and leaning against Sam's shoulder.

"Want to go for a swim?"

His stomach flipped and he swallowed some cider to try to wash the feeling away. "I shouldn't," he said, and his lips felt too dry.

"You sure?" Lucifer asked. The brunet glanced over through the corner of his eye, and smiled weakly as the guy next to him peeled off his top, tossing it to the side and revealing a toned upper body.

"The water's warm," the blond said more quietly, and leaned against him—probably accidentally—as he stripped down to black boxers.

Sam closed his eyes and inhaled, pulling dry lips into a closed mouth. He exhaled slowly, keenly aware of the body pressed against him.

The warmth disappeared and water splashed up on to him as the other guy pushed off the wall of the pool and into the water.

Sam's tired eyes widened as Lucifer broke the surface, shaking droplets of water out of his blond hair, and treading the water with a mischievous smile.

"Come on," the guy said in a gamely tone, jerking back his chin and treading backwards to make room.

"I'm in cargo shorts," Sam protested.

"So?"

Sam huffed and looked to the side.

"It's only polite to dress to the caliber the host does. Don't outdo me. Come on Sam—you don't wear briefs, do you?"

Sam let out a reluctant sigh and stood up, peeling off his shirt and working on the buttons on his shorts.

"Just, stay over there," Sam said finally as he dropped his shorts on to the ground next to the pool, and kicked them over to the pile of clothes.

There was a derisive snort in response to his statement, and Sam, swallowing hard, stepped into the water in just his navy boxers.

_ Might as well. _

The sound of the trickling waterfall became muted, the water shocking him into a more awake state, and Sam opened his eyes under the water, reveling in the quiet moment before he resurfaced, sucking in a sharp breath of air.

Lucifer laughed excitedly, and Sam looked over at him with a smile, as he shook his head to keep his dripping bangs out of his eyes.

"I can't believe you actually—oh, Sam." He sounded almost pitying as he laughed.

"Shut up," Sam snapped, skin feeling hot against the lukewarm water. "I like to swim."

Lucifer laughed as he moved closer. "Oh yeah?"

"Yes, actually," Sam said, flexing his jaw.

"Do you usually swim in your underwear with strange gay men? I wouldn't advise it."

Sam huffed an exasperated sigh and tilted his head back to keep water out of his eyes. The saltwater was soft. "Are you calling yourself strange?" he asked curiously after a moment.

"I would, yes."

Sam smiled and reached out a hand to grab the wall of the pool, feet seeking out the slanted underwater wall for support.

The blond moved closer again, and this time he planted one hand on either side of the brunet, blue eyes reflecting the quivering water surface.

"I like you, Sam," he said softly, eyes tracing the features on the other man's face.

Sam felt his fingers going numb and heat pooling into his lower regions. He cleared his throat and breathed a laugh, smiling slightly as the guy moved closer.

Lips pressed against his own before he could react, and he could taste saltwater and cider.


	2. Higher

Sam woke the next morning to his phone buzzing violently next to his head, and something furry vibrating against his chest.

Green eyes popped open, and he realized the thing on his chest was a cat, and it was purring, and his phone was almost shaking itself off the glass nightstand with its intensity.

The green-eyed, bluish-grey cat made a happy noise at his waking, and stood up from where it had been resting on his chest, large ears forward as it shimmied toward his face.

He sat up awkwardly, the cat scrambling as it fell off his chest and into the sheets in his lap. Its purrs intensified, and Sam looked left to right wildly, brown hair mussed, completely nude, and with a throbbing headache.

"Oh shit," Sam swore as what he could remember of last night came rushing back to him. Unfortunately, there were more than a few blank spaces of memory. He planted his face into his palms for a minute, and ignored the affectionate feline who had climbed on to his leg and was reaching for his face with its paw.

He opened his eyes, and gently pushed the cat's paws away from his cheek.

The wall of the massive master bedroom looked out on to the courtyard and pool—where most of Sam's clothes still were in a pile, clearly visible in the abrasive daylight.

The bed next to him was warm but empty, and he could hear a shower running.

He grabbed his phone off the black glass nightstand and blinked blearily at the screen.

Twenty-two missed calls, forty-nine text messages.

_Shit._

The Impala. He'd left Dean stranded, and he'd taken the Impala.

He groaned and set his phone to the side, falling back on to the bed with a forceful exhale.

_Lucifer._

The guy's name was weird. Everything about him was weird. His house, his personality, and even his cat—which was sidling up next to his face again.

Yet, Sam couldn't help but find himself liking the guy. He was smart, well off, successful, pleasant... and had probably drugged him, if his memory loss and rapid fall from sobriety were anything to go off of.

Sam closed his tired eyes and tried to will away his headache. He was still exhausted and wanted nothing more but to sleep in a few extra hours before facing Dean's insurmountable rage.

Paws pressed themselves into his neck and started to knead.

Sam popped open his eyes and gave the grey cat a pet on the head before gently moving its paws away from his throat. "Not now, buddy," he said quietly, and pet the cat's humorously big ears.

A few minutes rolled by, the pit of guilt in his stomach only growing.

Then his phone started buzzing again.

Sitting upright, Sam grabbed the phone and looked at the caller ID shamefacedly.

He hit the accept call button.

_"Sam? Sammy? Bobby, he's okay. Sammy—where the hell are you? Did you take my baby? Is she okay? Are you okay?"_

"Dean, I'm—"

The master bathroom door swung open just as Sam started to reply, and Sam startled, turning around to look at Lucifer, who had nothing but a white towel draped around his hips, and a playful smile in place.

"Morning, Sammy," he said in an audible, cloying tone. "Sleep well?"

Sam felt the blood drain from his face, and he covered the bottom of the phone as he gave the blond a horrified expression.

There was a beat of crackling silence on the other end of the phone, and it sounded like something dropped.

_"Sam?"_

Sam cleared his throat and raised the phone back to his ear. "Uh, I'm okay, Dean, I'm sorry, I—"

 _"Who's that?"_ his brother's voice had taken on a different tone.

Lucifer snickered as he headed into his walk-in closet, shutting the door behind himself.

"Uh—"

_"Is that the guy from the bar? Did you—...?"_

"Yeah. Yeah, it is. The Impala is okay, I—" Sam could feel his stomach dropping. He didn't want to have this conversation. Not over the phone either. And not right then. Or ever.

_"Sam, are you—?"_

"Dean, I"—fuck—"I'm sorry I left you, I didn't think—"

_"Are you okay? Did he hurt you?"_

Sam coughed in surprise, choking on his own spit and blinking tired eyes rapidly. "Dean, seriously? No. Hell no. I'm fine. Listen, the address is—"

"Tell him to meet us for coffee. You like coffee, Sam?" Lucifer's smooth voice interrupted him once more as he stepped out of the closet.

He was dressed in a neatly pressed, slate grey button-front shirt, freshly ironed black slacks, and a loose skinny black tie. He looked at himself in the mirror above the bed as he spoke, and adjusted his tie.

Sam nodded slowly, and the blond's gaze trailed down curiously. The brunet pulled the comforter higher over his waist, suddenly feeling very conscious of his state of undress.

 _"The address, Sam,"_ his brother's suddenly pissed voice barked out from his phone.

"Coffee—uh, maybe," Sam replied awkwardly. "Dean, you know that place on—"

 _"Tell me where you are Sam,"_ Dean demanded sharply, intensity rising.

"North Broad Street," Lucifer supplied helpfully. "The crepes and coffee stand. There's some seating nearby, we'll be easy to spot."

"Dean, relax, I'm fine. I'll bring the Impala, it's fine. I'll see you in a bit. I'll swing by the room before I go anywhere," Sam said impatiently, his hungover and sleep deprived brain struggling to keep up with both conversations.

"Do you need clothes?" Lucifer asked, a little too loudly

_"Sam—"_

Embarrassment rising, Sam hung up the call and put his phone on mute. He buried his face in his hands a second time.

"Don't do that," he said. "And yeah, do you have a t-shirt I could borrow?"

Lucifer paused thoughtfully. "I might have something for you," he decided, and disappeared back into his closet.

Sam sank into the comfortable king-sized mattress and stared up at the smooth ceiling.

"If you want to shower off, you can. Sorry, this is all I have in your size," Lucifer said as he tossed him a black shirt and some sweatpants. "I can have your clothes washed and sent back to you today."

"Oh, thanks. Yeah, okay," Sam said, and tried to keep the discomfort out of his voice. He had never been any good at one night stands. They always ended up weird.

He reached for the shirt as Lucifer strolled across the room toward him, expression indefinable.

"Are you okay?" the blond asked, blue eyes sharp as he tightened his tie.

Sam shook his head and cleared his throat. "Yeah. Just. Yeah. Hungover."

"Want some Advil? Or a Bloody Mary?"

Sam laughed and looked up at the blue-eyed blond, eyebrows raised. "Both, thanks," he said sarcastically. "I'm a big drinker. Gotta start early."

One side of Lucifer's mouth twitched. "Could have fooled me."

"Listen, you don't have to take me out for coffee. It was uh, nice to meet you—" Sam said gracelessly as he reached for the clothes laid in front of him.

Suddenly the blond was on the bed next to him, and Sam shifted away to give the blond space—but Lucifer closed the gap between them, keeping within touching distance.

There was a beat of silence and Sam cleared his throat, feeling uncomfortable with the proximity for some reason.

"You know, I don't do one-night-stands," the blond architect finally said, his pupils dilated as he shifted his hands restlessly.

Sam bristled, a frown forming at the statement. "And if I do?"

"Do you?" he asked as he sat up and leaned in, leaving their lips just millimeters apart. His blue eyes were half-lidded in lazy amusement as he waited for a response.

"Not usually," Sam admitted, a little quietly.

A mouth pressed against his own and he closed his eyes, relaxing as the blond deepened the kiss, his tongue skating along Sam's lower lip. He smelled like mint mouthwash and there was a hint of smoke on his collar.

"I figured," Lucifer said under his breath as he leaned back slightly, their noses still touching. Sam opened tired green eyes, and reached out a hand to pull the blond closer, fingertips brushing the front of his shirt.

"Don't touch my shirt."

Sam let go and blinked in surprise at the sharp, livid tone, looking up at the man who had pulled back, his face twisted with what looked like discomfort and anger. "Oh, I'm sorry—"

"No worries," Lucifer said as he moved off the bed, turned away to look out at the garden and exhaled slowly.

It was uncomfortable how quickly their interactions began and ended. It wasn't quite normal.

Sam was used to weird. He watched the other man as he looked at the sky out the glass wall.

"I was thinking about starting a Japanese maple bonsai," the blond said without missing a beat.

Sam perked up as he pulled the t-shirt over his head, and he hurried to put on the sweatpants while the blond was facing the other direction. "I love bonsai."

Lucifer turned his head slightly over his shoulder as Sam stood up, a small smile in place.

"Do you have a nickname, by the way?" Sam asked curiously as he walked up next to the guy to look out on the courtyard.

"Pet names already?" the blond asked teasingly. "Does my name offend you?"

Sam laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. "No, no, it's fine, my brother can be—it doesn't matter. Nevermind."

"Luc is fine," the blond offered. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah," Sam said, suddenly eager to get out of the house and back into the Impala. "How about we maybe meet up for lunch instead? I—need to return my brother's car before he has a heart attack. He's kind of in love with it."

Lucifer paused. He knew what that meant. He knew when someone was running away. He inhaled, and it tasted cold.

"Sure," he forced out, turning away and folding his arms behind his back. He'd promised himself. So he was letting go. "Who wouldn't be? It's a beautiful car."

Sam laughed agreeably and said something that didn't register as Lucifer restrained himself and closed his eyes, ignoring the rustling sounds of Sam Winchester gathering up his things and leaving. If he turned around, he might not be able to control himself. He was letting him go.

He let him go.

* * *

 

Afternoon rolled around and Lucifer couldn't feel his mind anymore. Up and down his arm, into his shoulders, flooding his chest, rushing down his spine was a sensation so—heavenly. He sank into the chair by his pool, eyelids drooping. His breathing became a little more labored, every breath in filling him with a feeling of joy. He let the syringe fall on to the ground next to him. The wind against his skin was soft, warm, and every nerve on his body was firing. It was everything he wanted. He was at peace, floating in a sea of comfort in his mind. Emotions came and went in little breezes, all positivity and pleasantry. He needed that. Oh, it was joy to be alive.

It had been a while since he had resorted to drugs. He'd found a new kind of high to replace them, because drugs numbed the mind; they made him soft... That was what Michael said. Drugs were no good.

In his opinion, however, heroin had just saved Sam Winchester's insignificant life. That was better than no good, as far as he was concerned. He laughed out loud. Heroin was named after heroism, after all.

He wet drying lips and breathed a laugh. That was better. Better to be high than kill someone to feel it. Better. He ran a hand through his own hair, and the sensation left him reeling.

His skin was tingling, almost itching, on his arm. He reminded himself to breathe, the act becoming more deliberate and less frequent.

His phone rang. Casually, he reached forward, enjoying the way it felt when he stretched, and the way the ringtone sounded. Enjoying everything. He answered the phone. "Hello?"

"Hey Luc, are you busy?" Gabriel's voice asked through the line. When had Gabriel last called?

"Never," he replied dryly, looking down at one hand, distracted by the way a small, speck of a spider crept up the armrest. "What's up?"

"Are you high?" Gabriel asked. He always was quick. Maybe he just knew him better than his other siblings. Lucifer smiled. That was nice. Gabriel was a good brother.

"Mhm," he hummed, emphasizing the end of the sound. "And you?"

"Luc." There was something in his voice that made Lucifer laugh again, a little too happily. It was nice to be cared about.

"Functioning, Gabe. What do you need help with?" he said. He had always loved opiates for that: for his ability to function on them.

He was in love with life and able to walk, talk, and deal with his less than pleasant siblings the unfortunate many years he had been forced to live with them. Why couldn't life be like that all the time? Then he never would have had to kill anyone.

"I'm coming over."

"Okay, great, see you then." The phone hung up before he could ask him what he had called for.

* * *

 

Sam buried his face in both hands, feeling a swell of guilt. He hadn't slept with anyone in a long time. He caught feelings too easily. Hunting was a full-time job, and Lucifer was...

What was he? Interesting. Maybe a little weird. Not a demon, that much was clear, considering he had drunk the holy water Sam had slipped him without so much as a hiccup.

Dean was giving him the silent treatment after they had finished a lengthy discussion. He sat on the other end of the motel room, glaring at his newspaper. He was mad, on behalf of the Impala most likely. A little angry Sam had never talked to him about his sexual preferences, maybe. Whatever it was, it was petty.

Admittedly, Sam had no intentions of meeting the guy for lunch. He had run away. He was getting tired of doing that.

What was wrong with settling down and hunting in the area anyway? Dean was restless since the yellow-eyed demon had been killed. He was without a purpose. He had spent his whole life following their dad's orders, and without that, he was spiraling off track and practicing his alcoholic act. It wouldn't have hurt him to relax a little either.

"Dean."

There was a pause and then a grunt.

"I'm..." Sam bit his tongue when he met his brother's eyes. He looked hurt. He was hurting. Sometimes Sam forgot his older brother was not the tough face he put on. "Do you want to go to lunch? Get a—a burger?" he changed what he had planned to say. He had to put Dean before the random guy. He needed someone.

Dean's face lit up under his scowl, his green eyes softening as he set down the paper he had been holding upside down. "Okay."

* * *

 

Lunch time came and went. His high stretched on for hours. He settled in with a good book, the feelings he drew from the story more intense and pleasurable, the smell of the pages sweeter, the feeling of the sun against his skin warmer. Everything was more. Waves of pleasure rushed up and down under his skin and through his veins. He felt like he was pleasantly on fire on the inside, the heat thrumming through his veins and radiating off his skin.

Gabriel showed up after a long drive and didn't say much of anything, just picked up his spilled dope and needles and put them away somewhere. Lucifer wasn't in the state of mind to worry about that. His little brother pulled up a chair next to him and sighed, looking over his shoulder to read with him.

"Sometimes I wonder which of us is really the little brother," Gabe said finally.

Lucifer laughed. "I know—I've aged well. You, not so much."

Gabriel cracked a smile. "Cleaning up after your messes aged me prematurely."

Lucifer smiled and leaned back, eyes closed, chin turned to the sky as he breathed in the fresh, sweet air. He set his open book down in his lap. "You want to swim? Saltwater is good for the skin."

Gabe laughed. "No, I'm good. It's not that warm."

"M'kay."

"Whose clothes are those?" Gabe nodded to the pile of Sam's clothes that he had left, and was probably never coming back for.

"Some guy's," Lucifer said dismissively. He set aside his book, focusing bright blue eyes on his brother's tired expression. "You want some dope? You look down."

"I don't anymore," Gabriel responded, smiling wryly as he held up a hand with a wedding ring. "Can't."

"Oh, you're whipped," Lucifer responded with a groan. "Come on."

"Believe it or not, it's better than being high," Gabe responded with a half smile.

"I'll go with not." Lucifer smiled in return cheekily. He looked down at his bare feet and stretched his toes toward the water surface, a few feet out of reach.

"You should try it sometime," Gabe said. "Ever met a girl—"

"Girl?"

"Sorry, guy," Gabriel corrected himself and looked back down at the pile of clothes. "Ever met a guy that made you think about what it might be like, waking up every day and seeing them? How life might be different, more fulfilled, with them by your side?"

"Nope," Lucifer enunciated as he spoke, his lips popping on the 'p'. "Have met more than a few who make me wonder what their heads would look like on a stick, though."

Gabe frowned and his older brother laughed, a little too giddy. "I love you, Gabe," he said. "You're funny."

"I try," his little brother responded dryly. "You're scaring me, Luc."

"Oh?" Somehow he knew that should have upset him, but he just couldn't find the soundness of mind to care. He kept smiling.

* * *

 

Sam repressed a yawn as he took a reluctant bite of the burger his brother had ordered for him.

They were in an old styled cafe, the kind with a jukebox and waitresses with seventies hairstyles. The walls were white with red trim, the floor kitchen tile. They sat at a booth seat with fries, glasses of coke, and burgers.

Dean was eating happily, a smile in place through his mouthfuls of food. He suddenly stood up, swallowing the food in his mouth with a strange expression in place. "Hey," he called out to a dark-haired guy who had sat down in a seat across the cafe.

"Who's that?" Sam asked, turning around to study the guy Dean was looking at.

He was wearing a trench coat. He had black hair and bright blue eyes that uncomfortably reminded Sam of the blond from last night.

"Cas, come over here," Dean called invitingly. "That's the guy who gave me a ride home when you stole Baby to go hang out with some guy." Dean was still pissed about that.

The dark-haired man Dean yelled at looked over slowly, his face lighting up with recognition. Sam took pause, the man's name ringing a bell that he couldn't place right then.

"He's weird, hold on," Dean said as way of explanation distractedly and got up, walking over to the guy's table with his burger in his hand. "Cas, come on over and meet Sam. I'll pick up your tab," he said, and pointed a thumb back at Sam, who waved sheepishly.

"Oh, hello, Dean," he replied quietly as he got to his feet. "Thank you. You don't have to," he said, but Dean steered him toward their table.

"Sammy, Cas. Cas, Sammy." Dean smiled and looked between the two with both brows raised expectantly, before sitting back down in his seat and digging back into his food.

"Hello, Sammy," the guy said in a low, gravely voice, still standing awkwardly.

"It's just Sam," Sam corrected lightly as Dean snorted into his french fry. "Nice to meet you."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Cas said, still standing. Dean kicked out a seat for him and nodded aggressively. Sam shot his brother a surreptitious look.

The man sat down. "I am Castiel," he said, looking at Sam briefly.

Sam repressed a shiver, something in the man's face eerily reminiscent of Lucifer's. _The eyes. Something in the eyes._

A memory came rushing back to him, of Lucifer in his car, listing off the names of his brothers. _Cas_. But the odds of it being the same one were slim. He shook himself.

"You like burgers?" Dean asked, his idea of conversationally.

"Yes, I have a fondness for red meat."

Dean waved over the waitress and ordered the guy a burger, taking little of his input into account. The black-haired guy just stared as Dean ate. The waitress brought him a water. He looked up and thanked her and then looked back to Dean, fixated, like a puppy watching a squirrel.

Sam cleared his throat. Castiel didn't acknowledge it, instead frowning thoughtfully at Dean, his eyes wandering up and down.

He was weird, that much was true.

There was a buzzing sound and slowly, Castiel reached into his pocket and pulled out a smartphone, frowning at the screen.

Dean leaned over his shoulder and frowned, his closed mouth still full of food. He swallowed hard as Castiel let the phone call go unanswered.

"Lucifer?" Dean asked. "Is that a common name or something?" He looked up at Sam suspiciously.

Sam froze, eyes wide.

"No, I don't think so," Castiel responded, not noticing the look on Sam's face, considering his eyes never left Dean's face. "Lucifer is my brother. He does not call. I assume someone is borrowing his phone."

Sam leaned back in his seat, suddenly losing his appetite. He swallowed anxiously and cleared his throat. "Cas, Castiel. Does your brother, uh, live in town?" Sam asked.

Dean made a grim expression.

Castiel frowned and looked up to Sam, his expression somewhere between confused and concerned. "Yes. Sometimes. Why?"

Dean scoffed. "Yea high, blond?" he asked, holding up a hand in the air vaguely, as high as he could raise his arm.

"Yes," Castiel replied simply, his blue eyes now trained on Sam as he tilted his head. "Do you know him?"

Dean snorted.

"Nope, no, uh, just, maybe ran into him last night," Sam said quickly, shaking his head. The odds had to be astronomical. It was just his luck. He was having lunch with the brother of the guy he had stood up.

"That's a way to put it," Dean said dryly.

Castiel seemed to look at Sam with renewed interest. Sam shifted a little under the scrutiny, sucking on his teeth. "All right, I'll leave you two," Sam said briskly with a laugh. Dean frowned and looked up at him, his burger raised toward his lips.

"Where you going Sam?" he asked in a protesting voice, brows furrowed. The waitress came by with Castiel's bacon burger, which he dove into with sudden interest.

"Just back to the room, going to uh, work up our case," he said vaguely. He needed work to distract him. "See you."

* * *

 

Lucifer was looking at the floor, his jaw tight, his head tilted. "This isn't funny, Gabe," he said seriously as he forced out a breath. He was feeling a little weak, standing was difficult.

He was starting to feel his mind disconnect from his body, the sensation of floating away, looking down at his own tired, pale expression and shaking hands. His brother leaned against the island in the kitchen, his expression unmoving.

"I care about you."

"Get the _fuck_ out," Lucifer said sharply, and stepped toward his brother, who was standing defensively in front of the sink where he had dumped and rinsed some heroin.

"It's going to be okay," Gabe said slowly. "I can leave."

Lucifer's shoulders slumped, and he shifted away from his brother, sitting down on a bar stool and hunching over the counter as a wave of dizziness threatened to knock him over. He was having a hard time breathing, and thinking. He hated that. He felt trapped. He laid his head against the cool countertop, exhaling in relief.

"What happened? I thought you were clean for a while. Michael said, anyway," Gabriel's voice was hard to register as he moved closer. Lucifer lifted his head and laid his cheek on his arm, looking up through bloodshot eyes.

"Michael's a liar," he said hoarsely, and smiled with just the corner of his mouth. "Surprised?"

Gabe grimaced, at the question or at what Lucifer looked like, he wasn't sure. "No. So who was this guy, last night?"

"Why are you so worried about it?" Lucifer snapped, his lips pulling into a tight line.

"Is he a user? Supplier? A—"

"No," Lucifer said, and snorted. The room was spinning, and breathing was hard. Imagining Sam as a drug dealer was funny. No, he was as Boy Scout as they came.

"Oh?"

"Not now, Gabe," he said tiredly, and turned his face into the crook of his elbow, pinching his eyes shut and groaning a little. "Can I just have a hit and then—"

"No."

Lucifer made an indiscernible sound as he felt himself slipping from consciousness, then jumping back into it abruptly, as he remembered to breathe.

"Come on," Gabriel's voice was suddenly louder, as he looped an arm around him and pulled him into a standing position. Lucifer sank against him, his own legs weak beneath him. "I'm going to stay until you come around. Kali and I are going to dinner tonight. Why don't you join us?" he offered as he walked his brother up the circular staircase.

Lucifer scoffed as he pulled himself free from his brother and leaned against the doorframe of his bedroom. "Fine."

* * *

 

Late into that night, Sam found himself looking at the time on his phone.

It was eleven at night, and Dean had never come back from lunch. He hadn't answered his phone. Something wasn't right.

Tense, worry gnawing at his stomach, he chewed on the inside of his cheek and pressed the call button one last time before he stood up and got his jacket by the door. He would go find him.

Before he could reach the door, the room burst open, Dean and Castiel tumbling in, attached at the lips.

Sam stood back, eyes wide and mouth falling open as Dean shoved the slightly shorter man against the wall, his hand running under his shirt as his mouth worked busily down his jawline and toward his jugular, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses.

Sam cleared his throat loudly. "D-Dean?" He didn't usually stutter. His mind went blank.

Dean sprung away from the black-haired guy like he'd been burnt, his green eyes suddenly wide, his own neck littered with purple and red hickies. "Sam," he said, voice taking on a yelp-like quality.

"What the hell?" Sam asked, looking between the two. Castiel was still looking at Dean, his expression heated.

"We—uh—caught a—succubus. She cast a—spell," Dean explained roughly as he looked back to Castiel, his eyes half-lidding.

"You—what? With Castiel?"

"Oh, yeah," Dean said as Cas moved in closer, pulling him into another kiss a little forcefully. "Yeah, 'e's a, a hunter, Sam," he said with some degree of effort, mumbling out words against the guy's lips as he pushed off Castiel's coat and tugged at his tie.

Sam grimaced. "I'm gonna go. Jesus. Cas—can, can I see your phone?"

Castiel didn't answer and just kicked his discarded coat toward Sam, tilting his head back as Dean peppered kisses down his neck.

Sam scrambled for the coat and avoided looking at the increasingly heated pair. He pulled it out, glanced at the missed phone call from earlier and memorized Lucifer's number, pushing it into the back of his mind as he headed toward the door.

"Okay, uh, see you—see you later!" Sam called roughly, suddenly finding the situation funny as he pushed open the door, the brisk night air greeting him.

He got no response other than a colorful swear from Castiel, and he quickly shuffled out the door, slamming it behind himself and exhaling.

* * *

 

Lucifer was sitting, kicking his feet against the underside of the bar he was waiting for his drink at impishly.

Gabriel was outside comforting Kali, who had stormed out after some rather humorous discussion. She was a hot-tempered sort. Despite his promise to stay sober for the dinner, Lucifer had only lasted about fifteen seconds into waiting for them to get back before getting up and ordering himself a drink.

He stared into his glass of vodka for the second night in a row, but found his mind wandering a different direction than usual.

_Sam Winchester._

He felt a shiver run up and down his spine and he closed his eyes and hummed to himself, bringing his feet against the wooden pieces of the barstool.

He could still see his face behind closed eyes. He smelled like gunsmoke and mint. He didn't seem the type to like guns, but Lucifer liked the mysterious parts of him. It made him more interesting. His eyes were nice; the kind Lucifer might collect. He smiled to himself, every bit aware how dark that sentiment was.

He flexed his hand against his glass, his knuckles going white as he took a prolonged sip, opening blue eyes to survey the bar around him.

He saw someone tall come up in his peripheral, sliding into a seat just a few away. Odd, considering most people kept their distance from him. He turned his head.

There he was.

"A beer is fine, thanks," the familiar brunet said tiredly, his expression a little lost.

"Don't drink, huh?" Lucifer called out with a wicked smile before he could stop himself.

Sam's head whipped around at record speed, his green eyes widening as they focused on the blond, and his jaw falling slightly slack. "Oh—I—hah," he laughed, rubbing the back of his head. Lucifer picked himself and his drink up and sat in the seat next to him, shifting closer, blue eyes imploring and innocent as he rested his chin in one hand and leaned forward. "I—don't usually. Lucifer, hey, I'm sorry, I didn't get your—"

"Number, I know," the blond said dryly. "I thought maybe that was your way of avoiding me. But I guess we have the same taste in... Italian bars?"

Sam huffed a laugh and looked up, as if he hadn't even realized the restaurant he had walked into. "Yeah, I guess so," he replied, and angled himself toward the blond in a way that was more forward than anticipated. Lucifer smiled wider.

"Just couldn't stay away?" he asked teasingly, kicking his feet on to the wooden slats underneath Sam's barstool.

Sam smiled subtly, and shifted back, eyeing the guy's drink. "What happened to you not drinking?"

"I'm a liar," Lucifer offered, spreading his arms apart for a moment. "But we're all sinners of a different kind, hm?"

"I didn't peg you as religious," Sam replied dryly, and nodded his thanks to the bartender as he gave him one of several home-brews, the foam almost bubbling off the top of the glass.

"The name of myself and my siblings didn't give it away?" he mused in return. "But you caught me. I'm not. So what's driven you to the drink, Sammy?" Lucifer asked, blue eyes mischievous.

Sam grimaced. "Long day," he said simply, and looked away, suddenly appearing nervous.

Lucifer hummed and moved closer, breathing in. "Family problems?"

Sam laughed a little, and relaxed as he looked at the guy. "Yeah, basically."

"If you need a place to stay," Lucifer offered, eyebrows lifted.

"Actually," Sam said, hesitating for a beat. "I would, really appreciate that. If you don't mind," he said, a little embarrassed.

"Of course not," Lucifer replied, and straightened up slightly as he saw Gabriel approaching—alone—in the corner of his eye. "Gabriel, meet Sam," he said more formally as he rotated in his twisty seat and took a sip of his vodka.

Gabriel grimaced at the drink and then shot a glance over to Sam, who smiled and nodded politely. "Hey," the tall brunet offered.

Gabriel blinked once and then looked between the two, a genuine smile spreading across his features. "Oh, that Sam?"

Lucifer rolled his eyes. "Don't mind him Sam, he was dropped on the head as a baby more than once," he said dryly.

"Nice to meet you, Sam," Gabriel said with an amused smile. Sam took a drink of his beer and laughed a little as he set it down.

"Ah, yeah, you too," he offered awkwardly.

"I like him, Luc," Gabe said seriously, his tone brisk and relieved. "Kali and I are heading out. We'll see you another time. Drive safe, yeah?"

Lucifer rolled his lips in a 'pft' sound. "Piss off, Gabe," he said.

"Love you too," his younger brother said with a wink. He shot a heartfelt smile at Sam, who watched him go with a curious look.

"Sorry, I am also having family troubles," Lucifer said as he twirled his stirring straw in his drink with his index finger as Gabriel exited the restaurant, picking up their bill on his way out.

"No worries," Sam said with a laugh. "Are you sure tonight's a good time—?"

"I wouldn't have offered, I'm not that generous," Lucifer returned with raised brows. "Besides, I don't do one night stands. Remember?"

Sam seemed to tense a little at that, his expression changing and flitting between a nervous smile and a thinking frown. "Yeah?"

Lucifer moved closer, their shoulders brushing. "Mhm," he confirmed, the touch distracting him from the building ache in his head, in a pleasant way. "Have you eaten yet?" he asked, turning blue eyes to the brunet.

Sam shook his head.

"Do you want to?"

Sam looked surprised and then a half smile quirked up the side of his face. "Sure."


	3. Cigarette

Sam laughed a little as he followed the blond into the parking lot. "I can't drive," he said, a little drunk. It wasn't like him to drink every night, but he was starting to realize Lucifer made him act out of character.

Or maybe since he'd gotten stuck in hunting his entire life, he wasn't sure what his character really was. But he knew Lucifer made him smile, even if he was a little creepy, sometimes. That counted for something. It was nice to smile again.

The blond stopped suddenly and leaned against an expensive, well-kept black Fisker in the dark parking lot. He pulled out a cigarette, holding the pack out to Sam politely.

"No, thanks," Sam shook his head and wrinkled his nose as the man lit up the Kamel Red. "That's so gross," he complained, and walked around the guy to appreciate the car. "This is one of those, uh, green cars?"

Lucifer snorted into his cigarette. "Yeah," he said, exhaling a puff of smoke that was illuminated by the street lights. "I can drive."

"You sure? I think you drank more than me," Sam said unsurely, raising puzzled green eyes to the man's face.

"I'm sober," Lucifer replied simply as he looked at Sam carefully, his thoughts methodical.

Sam frowned a little and Lucifer inhaled, relishing in the feeling. "You drink a lot, don't you?" the brunet asked.

Lucifer smiled around the cigarette held in the corner of his lips. "Ah, you caught me."

"And you drugged me the other night. Right?" The alcohol seemed to have freed up his curiosity.

"Sam, if you think so poorly of me, why are you here?" Lucifer asked.

"I don't," Sam replied, sounding admonished as he looked at his feet. "Sorry."

"I didn't spike your drink, you just don't handle alcohol well," Lucifer said. "If I had, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

Sam jerked his chin up, expression tense through the tipsy haze. "Is that a threat?"

Lucifer offered a lazy half grin as he pulled his cigarette from his lips and blew out smoke. "Of course not, Sam," he said, and moved in, using his spare hand to grab Sam's fingertips, tugging him against his chest and meeting little resistance.

Sam was quiet as the blond pressed in closer, lips grazing his jawline. "Mm, you smell nice," Lucifer said, keeping his left hand with the smoke away from the brunet as he inhaled against his neck. "You shoot guns?"

Sam blinked a little and shivered, his stomach tightening from the lips against his neck. "I do, sometimes," he admitted. "Do you want to—go back to your place?" he asked carefully as the blond stepped back with a tired expression.

"Not particularly. Sometimes it's nice to be outside," he said, and scuffed the toe of his leather shoes into the ground. His wrinkled dress shirt sleeves were pushed up to reveal tattooed forearms, his skinny black tie was loose, the top button of his shirt undone.

Sam felt his mouth go dry and he tore his gaze away, instead focusing on the man's expensive, ecofriendly vehicle. "Yeah," he said, and then laughed a little as the guy puffed out smoke, blond brows drawn together.

Sam sank to the ground in the deserted parking lot and leaned against the wheel of the car, the back of his head resting above the tire. He closed his eyes, sighing.

He felt the other man slide down next to him, a head falling against his shoulder and a body pressing up against him. He could almost feel the smoke soaking into his clothes, and he smiled a little as the tips of blond hair brushed his cheek.

"I don't know what I'm doing," Sam admitted.

"Hmm?" Lucifer asked, the noise vibrating from his chest against the brunet's side.

Sam let his legs fall in front of him crookedly as he opened his eyes, trying not to focus on the way he could feel the other man breathing against him. The blond had blue eyes trained on his face, stubble lining his jaw as he made an innocent expression up at him, his cigarette held in his left hand.

"I don't think I've done anything but work for years," Sam admitted. "I don't know what to do with myself, now that I'm not."

"Enjoy yourself? Or is that too crazy?" Lucifer offered as he stretched out his own legs and swung one knee over Sam's.

"Do you always climb all over people?" Sam asked tiredly, raising one eyebrow.

Lucifer shrugged. "No, but you're tall," he said as a way of explanation. Sam narrowed both eyes in confusion.

Lips found his neck and Sam sucked in an unsteady breath as a tongue swept out and traced shapes over his skin, teeth scraping skin as Lucifer chuckled. Sam swallowed hard, eyes glazing as he looked down at the blond through the corner of his eyes.

A kiss was pressed to the edge of his mouth and a hand slid into his lap, pressing against him through his jeans and eliciting a gravely groan. Sam shifted closer, pressing his lips to the blond's with a sudden neediness, not caring that he tasted like cigarettes anymore.

Lucifer hummed appreciatively and slid his tongue into his mouth, his hand sliding up into soft brown hair and tugging.

Sam pulled back to breathe. "We should go," he said a little hoarsely, looking into blue eyes with renewed intensity.

"All right," the blond agreed, and pressed a chaste kiss to the brunet's lips before getting to his feet and stomping out his unfinished cigarette on the asphalt with his heel.

* * *

They barely made it through the front door before Lucifer spun around and pushed Sam against the wall, teeth sinking into his lower lip as his hand worked deftly at the buttons on his jeans.

Sam exhaled sharply, waves of heat clouding his mind as the man unbuttoned his own shirt and left it on the floor, exposing his tattooed arms and shoulders in full.

"I want you," Lucifer said roughly against his ear as he started to push his shirt out of the way.

Sam nodded and lifted his arms, letting his shirt be discarded somewhere in the dark as lips pressed to his own again, more fervently.

They stumbled toward the living room and Sam felt his back hit the cool leather couch, the breath being knocked out of his chest. Light from the kitchen illuminated the blue of Lucifer's eyes as he hovered over him, breath staggering.

The blond tugged at his unzipped jeans and Sam kicked them off the rest of the way. Lucifer leaned down, pressing his lips to Sam's softly, a hand squeezing him through his boxers.

Sam made an animal-like noise and arched into the touch, his nerves firing. " _Fuck_ , Lucifer," he mumbled against the blond's smirking lips.

"Yeah?" the words were whispered against his cheek. A thumb dipped into the waistband of his boxers and tugged, and Sam groaned, burying his face into the blond's neck.

"Please," he mumbled against warm skin, out of breath. Lucifer shifted down.

Lips skimmed along his abdomen and came to rest just below his navel, Lucifer teasing the boxers lower and looking up at the brunet through hooded eyes.

The clothing was suddenly pushed out of the way, and Sam hissed at the abrupt cold air and then the warm lips that wrapped around him. " _Oh_ ," he got out between breaths as he ran a hand into blond hair.

"Choke me and I'll fucking kill you," the blond warned, swirling a tongue around his tip. Sam breathed and nodded a little unsteadily, relaxing his grip on the man's hair.

He was enveloped in warmth and his whole body shook as he tried not to move, his breath coming in short gasps and groans as the blond hummed around him.

Sam couldn't much think through the silky wet mouth working expertly over him, and felt teeth graze him warningly when he bucked his hips.

Suddenly there was unwanted air between them again, and Sam locked hazy green eyes on to the shadows obscuring Lucifer's face as he moved closer, his head tilted with an interested expression.

"We should go upstairs," he husked as he skated fingertips over Sam's abdominal muscles and up his torso, splaying a hand over his heart and pressing.

Sam swallowed hard and nodded, feeling his ribcage shake against the guy's hand with every beat. "Yeah."

* * *

The next morning Sam found himself nursing a glass of water he had taken an Advil with, wearing nothing but sweatpants. His elbows rested on the granite bar in Lucifer's kitchen. He rubbed the back of his neck and ran a hand into his hair, ducking his head and ignoring the protest from a bruised spot of skin as he did so. He pressed a couple fingers into the tender patch where his shoulder and neck tied together, sighing.

"Morning, Sambo," a chipper voice greeted him after the sound of the heavy French front door falling closed.

"Sambo?" Sam turned and looked with interest as Lucifer set down a box full of tiny donuts on the bar and slid into the seat next to him. He was wearing a dusky red t-shirt and black sweatpants, his spiky blond hair still wet from a shower, his blue eyes brighter and more alert than the night before.

"Lamborghini and Sam. Lambo. Sambo," he said, waving his hand. Sam smiled and shook his head, pushing open the donut box carefully.

Lucifer set down one of the two coffee cups and pushed it toward him, sipping on his own.

"Why are these so small?" Sam asked as he picked up one of the donuts, which were only slightly larger than his thumb.

"They're normal sized," Lucifer said innocently. "Have you grown, Sam?"

"Har-har," Sam said sarcastically.

Lucifer smiled and rocked back and forth in his seat, a little like a hyperactive kid as he tapped his fingers on the surface of the counter. "Do you need a ride back to your place?" he offered, and fidgeted with the Rolex watch on his left wrist.

Sam paused with his mouth open over his donut in thought. For some reason, the thought of Lucifer knowing where he and Dean were staying put him on edge. Besides, he didn't know how to explain that they were living in a motel. It felt embarrassing.

"Uh, no, actually, my brother's coming to pick me up if that's all right," Sam said quickly. Lucifer shot him a glance through the corner of his eyes and raised one eyebrow, before shrugging.

"Sure; that's fine," he said, something in his voice suggesting it wasn't fine, as his hyperactivity stilled and quiet filled the room.

Sam set down his untouched mini donut and sipped on his coffee. "Have you seen my—?"

"All of your things are up in the room," Lucifer said simply, his voice relaxed again as he looked over out the glass door. "I'm going out if you want to join me," he said, and got to his feet.

* * *

Sam texted on his phone, his feet dipped in the warm water as Lucifer held his breath under the surface and sat on the bottom of the pool. He kicked through the water at the hand that reached up and grabbed his toes.

Dean didn't seem to understand why he needed to be picked up. Sam wasn't sure how to explain that even though he kept hanging out with the guy, he wasn't entirely convinced he wasn't a monster or a killer.

The blond broke the surface and shook his head, sending droplets of saltwater flying. Sam laughed as Lucifer swam to the wall and grabbed both of Sam's knees, smiling mischievously.

"Come in," he said, leaving wet handprints on the clean cargo shorts Sam had changed into.

"Can't," Sam said, and lifted his phone obviously with eyes pinched to shield from the abrasive sunlight.

"Put it down," he suggested, water running off his chin. His blue eyes were unusually vivid as they reflected the water and sky. He rubbed his rough unshaven cheek against Sam's knee and ignored the way the brunet sighed. "You're no fun," he protested.

Sam started to pull his legs out of the water when Lucifer tugged him back down by his foot, smiling in an ornery way.

Dean called instead of responding and Sam frowned, answering the phone reluctantly.

"Hello?"

" _I'm on my way, but Cas is uh, with me_ ," Dean said through the phone.

"No, don't bring him," Sam said quickly, eyes widening. Lucifer looked up with sudden interest.

"I couldn't just leave him at the motel," Dean responded, sounding scandalized.

Lucifer clambered out of the pool and grabbed his sunglasses from a seat nearby, propping them over his blue eyes and pretending to look distracted as he grabbed a towel. Sam shot him an anxious look.

"Fine, just, hurry up," Sam said impatiently, and hung up as the blond finished scrubbing his hair dry with the towel and moved closer, the Bloody Mary he had made earlier and abandoned by the pool now in hand.

Lucifer smiled as sipped on the red cocktail through a straw. "Trouble in paradise?"

Sam ran a hand through his short brown hair and shook his head. "No, nothing," he said. "Are you an alcoholic?" he changed the subject shortly.

Lucifer laughed and bumped his nose on the lime wedge on his glass. "No," he replied.

Sam made a skeptical expression before furrowing his brows and turning back around, looking down into the water and kicking his feet back and forth. "Lucifer, would you kill someone?" he asked.

There was a pause, and then Lucifer was sitting down next to him, their shoulders brushing as he dipped his own feet in the water. He held his drink in both hands as he looked up, his expression obscured by sunglasses as he thought.

"Yes. Would you?"

Sam tensed, and without thinking he laughed a little darkly, because it had suddenly occurred to him how hypocritical the question and concern was. He had killed people; more than he could count. He _continued_ to kill people. He was a killer.

"Yes," he said simply, and he felt Lucifer cough a little into his straw, poorly hiding a laugh.

" _Who_?" the blond asked, raising both brows above dark lenses.

Sam smiled tensely.

"I can't see you killing anyone, Sam," Lucifer said honestly, still smiling. "You'd be a vigilante... like Batman," he said, and nodded to himself as he lifted his legs out of the water, resting his heels on the surface.

Sam laughed. "I think you give me too much credit," he said, and felt a swell of guilt.

Lucifer smiled wider and shook his head. "Okay then, confessions time! I'll ask the lord to forgive your sins. One at a time, shoot," he said, and leaned back, sipping his cocktail, his feet splashing quietly back into the water.

"You could never be a priest," Sam argued.

"Ah-ah, no judgment here except from god himself," Lucifer said with an admonishing wave of his index finger.

Sam sighed a little dramatically and shook his head at the ridiculousness of the situation. He clapped his hands together in his lap and looked up at the sky, eyes squinting against the sunlight. "All right. Uh, one time, I... I got really drunk," Sam started.

Lucifer laughed a little under his breath before coughing. "Ah, yes, the lord hears your confession. And?"

"And I've lied, a lot," Sam continued. "I've, gotten high on demon blood." The brunet cracked a smile at that.

Lucifer tilted his head and raised a brow, pushing his sunglasses into his hair. "Oh? God, doesn't understand your lingo. Clarify... for your father." The blond poorly disguised a snicker.

Sam pressed his lips together and laughed in a way that sounded unamused. "I drank the blood of a demon," he reiterated seriously. "And I killed some demons to do that, even though they were possessing the bodies of innocent people."

Lucifer blinked a couple of times and Sam dipped his head and looked over, expression contorted somewhere between amusement and guilt.

"Right, right," the blond said. "Don't hold back anything here Sam, the lord needs to know all to forgive," he said, expression faltering.

Sam laughed and shook his head. "I've committed credit card fraud, broken the law my entire life," he said and watched unmoving blue eyes. "I've killed monsters and humans."

Lucifer took pause and blinked a couple of times, before cracking half a smile. "Better ask for forgiveness, now," he said, shifting closer as he lifted a hand to Sam's jawline, guiding him in for a chaste kiss. "He forgives all sins," he said against his lips with a sardonic smile.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked, smiling and furrowing his brows in confusion as the blond moved closer and pressed fleeting kisses from his lips down his jawline.

"I'm a catholic priest, right? I'm molesting you," Lucifer said lazily as he pressed a kiss to the hickey he had left last night.

" _Sam_?"

Sam jumped to his feet and away from the blond in record time at the sound of the unfamiliar voice. Lucifer slowly turned his head to the newcomer, his expression calculating and unreadable.

Sam's brother, who he dimly recognized from the night he had met Sam, was standing not far from the pool, a gun in one hand and an expression somewhere between startled and angry. That explained the smell of gunsmoke.

"Dean!" Sam exclaimed, eyes wide as he looked at the gun.

"You weren't answering your phone," the older Winchester said gruffly as a way of explanation before slowly tucking away the weapon behind himself, hands lifting in front of himself innocently, his gaze still turned to Lucifer. "I thought something was wrong."

Lucifer arched an eyebrow. "You just walked in my house?" he asked carefully. Sam's green eyes grew wider as he subtly stepped in between the two.

"The front door was unlocked," Dean said shortly, blinking.

"Okay, Lucifer, I'm so sorry," Sam said quickly. "Dean can be—uh, Dean. We'll head out now."

"I could press charges for trespassing," Lucifer continued, blue eyes bordering on amused. Dean narrowed his eyes in return, setting his jaw.

"Listen, uh, _Lucifer_ ," Sam's older brother said, spitting out his name like it was a curse. "It was a misunderstanding, that's all. Sam and I are very close. When one of us doesn't answer we go find the other. Sorry if I didn't have the utmost faith in a guy he met at a bar two days ago."

"How old is Sam, exactly?" Lucifer asked slowly, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. The older Winchester was proving more obnoxious than he had seemed drunk.

"Okay let's go," Sam said sharply, glaring at Dean. "I'm sorry," he added, looking at Lucifer as he pulled his feet out of the pool and stood.

Dean looked him up and down with a glare, then back to Sam with a scandalized expression. Sam grabbed him by the shoulder and steered him toward the door.

Lucifer puffed out an exhale and felt an uncomfortable surge of emotions. He shook his head and walked into the house, slamming the glass door shut behind himself with a little too much force. He left wet footprints in his wake as he walked toward the front door.

"Cas, I told you—" Dean started speaking just as Lucifer walked into the house foyer, his head down as he shook some water out of his light blond hair.

"Lucifer."

Lucifer looked up sharply, blue eyes widening because his schizophrenic younger brother, Castiel, was speaking to him from where he stood in the way of the front doors.

Lucifer blinked a couple times, not understanding.

"Castiel?" he asked carefully, looking to Dean and Sam who were on their way out, the older of the two looking stressed. "What are you doing here?" he asked slowly.

"Gabriel asked me to check on you," he said, glancing around the house briefly. "And Dean came here to pick up Sam. We're working on a case."

Lucifer's blue eyes widened for an instant before he rocked his weight back on to his heels and crossed his arms over his bare chest. "Are you?"

"Yes. Some succubi are killing men in this area and we don't know—"

Lucifer raised both brows as Dean clapped a hand over Castiel's mouth, shaking his head.

"Sam, can I talk to you?" Lucifer asked carefully, eyes darting between Dean and Castiel aloofly.

Sam exhaled heavily, green eyes stressed as he ran a hand into the back of his hair and nodded. "Yeah."

Lucifer jerked his chin in the direction of the kitchen and Sam followed after him, expression apologetic.

"Castiel is my little brother. He's... a paranoid schizophrenic," Lucifer said boredly as soon as they were out of earshot. "I don't really care what he does with his life, but I'm asking that you make Dean aware, and to please not play along with his delusions. He won't take medication," he said, scrubbing a hand through his hair roughly.

Sam blinked. "Luc, I'm—"

"Luc?" Lucifer asked, raising an eyebrow and smiling.

"Sorry, I thought—" Sam started, looking abashed.

"That's fine," Lucifer responded coolly. "Will you two be around for long? I recall you saying you traveled a lot."

"I'm... I plan on being here a while," Sam said slowly. "Dean, I don't know," he admitted.

"All right," the blond said with a fleeting smile. "That was all I wanted to say. Will I see you around?" he asked, shifting closer to the brunet.

Sam blinked a couple of times, swallowing. "I'd like that," he admitted.

Lucifer smiled. "All right."

"Sam, we're heading out. Come on," Dean's voice barked from the other room.


	4. Drink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to update. Truth be told this is all very old writing, I have a lot I haven't posted yet, but I rarely find the drive to post. Going to try to update regularly because I know at least some of you enjoy this.

"You and Cas?" Sam asked, a little slack-jawed from where he stood in the kitchen of the apartment they were staying in illegally.

The two had closed the succubi case a few days ago, and Dean had been in a weird mood ever since. Castiel had been staying with them more often than not, and when the case had taken longer than anticipated, Dean had dumped the motel idea and started squatting in an upscale apartment complex while the owner was out of the country.

Dean wanted to move into an apartment with Cas. Not squatting, actual renting. They hadn't really talked about Dean's interest in the guy—and as far as Sam knew, they seemed to have remained just friends after the spell had worn off.

"Yeah. You know, Sam, I think you were on to something," Dean said slowly. "And hear me out. But I think we could settle down and just hunt in the area. Keep this place safe. At least until another big case comes up, you know?"

Sam puzzled, something seeming decidedly off as he watched Dean fidget with the coffee machine on the counter.

"So you're going to move in with _Cas_?" he asked skeptically.

"Sam, I can't give up hunting," Dean said finally, exhaling and shaking his head. "But you—you deserve to make your own decisions, all right? If you want to quit then I don't want you to feel stuck in the life because of me." His older brother exhaled heavily. "I want you to do that university thing and live your life Sam. I want you to be happy."

Sam blinked several times and then exhaled, shaking his head. "Dean, that's... that means a lot to me," he said slowly, not quite sure if he was supposed to take the offer seriously.

Dean looked up, green eyes surprised. "It does?"

"Yeah. It does. I think at least for a while, I need a break," Sam said, his shoulders rolling forward in a sudden wave of exhaustion.

"I meant you could move in with us," Dean said quickly.

"No, I'd like some time to myself, Dean. Maybe I'll look into school again," he said. "And you and Cas—congratulations," he added, smiling mischievously.

"It isn't like that," Dean said defensively. "Cas and I. We—"

"It's okay Dean," Sam said, shaking his head. "I don't care."

Dean's face flushed as he flexed his jaw. "Well. Uh. Good."

Sam smiled and turned around, fishing his phone out of his jacket pocket and pulling up the number he had gotten off Castiel but hadn't bothered with yet. A feeling kept stopping him. He pushed it aside. He wasn't going to be paranoid anymore; Lucifer seemed like a nice guy, even if he was a little off.

* * *

Lucifer sat outside the Starbucks with an irritated expression on his face, and a pencil held between his teeth as he looked at the sketch he was working on.

He hummed to himself as he turned the page in his book, his design not coming out how he wanted it to. He'd ordered some materials for a plastic model, but they weren't going to arrive for days, so he settled for his pencil and paper to visualize what his client wanted of the office.

He had an itching in his chest, deep inside. It flared up occasionally. He tried not to focus on it; it only meant bad things. He put himself in his work, and he avoided looking at people.

Sam Winchester had disappeared. Cyberstalking did not reveal much on the man. He was probably never going to see him again. He told himself he was okay with that. People came and went, that was normal, and he had only known him two days.

The unnamed feeling deep inside tended to flare up when he saw men with green eyes. There weren't many like Sam's. His were so unique. _Beautiful_.

The blond took his pencil from between his teeth in his hand and felt his pulse start to quicken, his breaths coming a little unsteadily.

He tried to look at the paper in front of himself and found it hard to focus, the lines blurring as his vision went soft, his mind screaming. He closed blue eyes, a laugh shaking his chest. He felt cold and hot, all at once, like something was filling up his chest and fighting its way out of his throat, or beating through his ribcage with his heart.

He dropped his pencil on the table and a wind blew, knocking it onto the ground. He opened both eyes, face contorted in rage. Every muscle in his body felt locked in place, his mind a panicked mess, unable to give or make order. He hated feeling out of control. _Control_. He craved control. To control his feelings. To control how other people made him feel. To control himself.

He looked at his sketchbook and carefully, with ghost-light fingers, closed it and put it away in the black leather bag next to himself. He stood, putting his bag over his shoulder, and pulled his navy tie off, shoving it haphazardly away in the top of his bag. He hated it. It made him feel trapped.

Trapped, the word repeated in his head, bouncing off the sides of his skull, screaming, laughing, singing, whispering. He shook his head a little violently and resisted the urge to rip out his hair. Violent anger quelled his panic, climbing up his throat and circling his mind like a bird of prey. He started to walk. His discarded pencil broke in half under his shoes as he stepped onto it accidentally.

He could take a hit, forget all the feeling, but there was something so weak about it all. He wasn't controlling how he felt, he was _being_ controlled. It sedated the anger. He hated it. He seethed as he walked, people stepping out of his way with widened eyes as he made his way down the busy street of the outdoor mall.

He wasn't sure how far he walked, he just let himself move, it made the energy flow, kept him from exploding. At some point he found himself standing inside at the bar of a restaurant, despite the early afternoon hour.

There was one other man seated at the bar. He had hazel eyes and brown hair. He was average in every way that Sam was not—average height, depressed expression, dressed like a guy who worked a desk job. He was nursing a glass of whiskey with a desolate look.

Lucifer felt numbness spread like novocaine from his core, up his limbs and into his mind, hushing the screams. A silence settled over him, peaceful and patient. His lips twitched, and he found himself taking a seat next to the guy, quiet and keeping his distance as he rested his forearms on the table.

"I just got laid off," the guy announced, his voice laden with alcohol. The bartender came back over, looking pitying. The average guy hiccuped. "I don't know what I'm going to do."

"What can I get you?" the bartender asked Lucifer politely.

"Mojito. Non-alcoholic," he replied, flashing a friendly, easygoing smile.

The guy nodded and turned around, grabbing a glass as he started to work.

"Maybe my ex-wife is right. I'm a failure," the brunet said, looking near tears as he turned to the blond, expression desolate.

Lucifer tried not to look back at him, but there was a coil in his stomach beneath the numb. A heavy, tight emotion, that wound itself around his intestines in knots.

"Want another drink?" he offered smoothly before he could stop himself, turning to face the man. He tried not to acknowledge the way he could feel his suddenly relaxed mind calculating.

It was easy to get away with homicide when suicide was probable. A divorced, recently fired alcoholic wouldn't be missed by anyone.

"Oh, shit, yes. Thank you," the man replied, looking surprised. "I just want to forget all of this, all of my life," he said with a tired laugh. "You know?"

Lucifer nodded his thanks as his ordered drink was pushed across the bar. He resisted the urge to laugh a little as he took a drink of the minty cocktail. "Mhm."

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he ignored it, only flicking the switch to silent.

* * *

Lucifer hunched over the sink in his bathroom, breath nearly suffocating him as what had happened soaked into his mind, like the blood through the pores in his hands.

Waves of heat ran from his core into his shoulders, bursting through his skin before reaching his head, which felt disconnected from the rest of his body. He was shaking.

Lucifer sat on the ground, knees drawn in toward his body, the fingertips of his left hand tracing the ground in a circular pattern with a star in the center. He'd lost count of how many times he'd drawn that shape before.

He stared unseeing at the dark in front of him, occasionally hearing voices ring in from behind and beside him. He knew they weren't real, so he didn't listen to the words they said. It was nonsense anyway; an imagined form of communication. He bit his tongue, until he tasted blood, slowly relaxing with a laugh. His eyes darted left and right at a rapid pace, seeing nothing.

He had grown so used to being alone. He didn't mind the dark, so much as he hated it. His mind had never quite accepted isolation: fabricating people and voices, sounds and lights, colors, anything to break the state he had been in for years. He often wished he had died, and wondered why he hadn't.

His phone rang again, and the sound was so foreign, he felt his heart thud an odd number of beats within a few seconds. His hands shook as he picked up his phone, blue eyes glazed with a sheen of terror as he looked at the screen.

Sam.

He sucked in a breath like he'd just resurfaced from water. He blinked, he dropped his phone like he'd been burnt. His expression flatlined, and he felt something heavy settle into the pit of his stomach as he got to his feet.

He slowly reached down, tried to regulate his breathing, and without much forethought, accepted the call. His phone said it was nine at night. He hadn't slept in approximately thirty-six hours, so it hardly mattered what time of day it was. He was exhausted.

"Hey, Lucifer," Sam's voice was friendly as it rang in through the cell phone, and somewhere inside Lucifer's self he wondered if this were just the most complex hallucination he had had yet.

Sometimes he wondered if he had ever left confinement, or if the world he lived in was made up inside his mind. A universe cooked up from rage, loneliness, and madness.

"Hey," he croaked into the phone, cringing as he realized he didn't sound very well.

"Are you okay?" Sam was quick. He had liked that about him, hadn't he?

"Yeah, just tired. What's up, stranger?" he forced out, clearing his throat. His hand shook, tapping the top of the cold phone against his ear repeatedly.

"I was wondering if you wanted to catch up and uh, hang out," Sam said, sounding humorously unsure.

Lucifer cracked a smile, his pulse steadying as he spoke. "I'd like to get out, actually. I'm tired of working."

"Great!" Sam answered. "Did you want to see a movie or something?"

Lucifer smiled, and leaned his head back until it hit the cool surface of his sink cabinets behind him. He slowly lifted the phone back to his ear. "Yeah, I'd like that. I'll pick you up," he said.

He didn't wait for an answer before hanging up, maybe a little afraid of the idea being rejected, and partially unable to keep his voice steady any longer. He laughed and scrubbed at his eyes with the base of his palms, before he stood up and rubbed off his palms on his pants.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment!


End file.
